The Liar's Club
by icanshowyoutheway
Summary: Slightly AU. Cory, Topanga, Jack, and Shawn all decide to stay in Philadelphia. Eric moved to New York but has come home, plagued with both old and new demons. We get to see the different, darker side of Eric Matthews. In fact, we never knew he at all. This is my hobby and it's my first story I have put up here. Be gentle! Rated M for adult language and situations.
1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

There are many things in this world Cory Matthews hated, but about all else, he hated cleaning. After Topanga decided to refrain from moving to New York after a long, agonizing three day weekend full of debating the pros and cons of relocating, the small Matthews family finally decided to rent an apartment a mere fifteen minutes from the house where Cory had the pleasure of growing up and of getting aquatinted with his environment. This was a good thing, simply because Cory never wanted to leave the coy, familiar town of Philadelphia and frankly, he was thrilled that his wife had come to the same conclusion. However, this arrangement proved to be a not-so-good thing because Amy Matthews was equally as thrilled. This meant that whenever the family matriarch needed help with something such as cleaning out Cory and Eric's old closet to make way for Josh's "big boy clothes" as she had so affectionately put it, she would use Cory's services on one of the few days he was not being subjected to the mundane accounting tasks.

Mr. Feeny and Dean Lila Bolander Feeny were living happily over the fence, just as the beloved teacher always had. Eric, to everyone's surprise, actually made the leap to New York City, leaving in the night with a half-assed goodbye to his parents. Cory didn't even know he was gone until two days later. So, here he was, moving clothes and books from Eric's side of the closet on one of the stormiest days of the year. The rain pounded of the roof and the tree branches were making sinister shadows in the dark gray hue of the outside world. He had finished his own compartment earlier in the afternoon, but his mother wanted everything our and in the open so she could sort it and try to mail it off to Eric. Cory saw this as a blatant coping mechanism, for Eric hadn't called in days or left any kind of mailing address. Amy had instructed Cory to simply take Eric's belongings and put it in the garage for her or for Eric himself to go through, which ever came first. Cory had nodded, a twinge of sadness enveloping him. Not having your brother around is one thing. Not _knowing_ where your brother is was a totally different sensation all together.

There wasn't anything of substance in Eric's compartment. A few old garments were quickly discarded and a few boxes of trinkets had been reverently set aside for Eric or Amy's review. A flash of lightening was followed by a succinct bark of thunder as Cory pushed on the door, meeting some unknown resistance. There was nothing in the closet, but no matter how hard he pressed on the door, he could not get the latch to close.

"This _would_ happen to me…" Cory mumbled, grabbing the knob and slamming the door will all of his force, using his mounting frustration as welcomed leverage. The door closed with a loud sickly cracking sound, as if a chicken bone had been snapped in half. Cory hoisted the box of trinkets onto his shoulders and headed to the garage. He was seconds away for being out of the room when he heard a prolonged falling crash come from the offending closet. He quickly placed the box down on Josh's bed and opened the oak door cautiously. Lightening struck a second time, illuminating the pointed red corner of what Cory assumed was a book. He was right upon further inspection, looking up from where it could have come from. A loose board hung by a splinter. Cory had just enough time to snag the volume and exit through the passage before the board plummeted to the ground and split.

Cory sat beside the now forgotten box of trinkets and gazed upon the thin book. It was obviously a yearbook, titled "Camp Sequoia, Summer 93" in engraved white lettering. A solemn silhouette of an Indian graced the cover, complete with head dress, saluting over a backdrop of some sort of body of water. Cory vaguely remembered Eric being gone for that summer, as well as the summer of '92. It was a little-known fact, buried deep in the family, that during the early 90's, Eric would act out in violent ways and the Matthews, out of desperation, sent Eric to a special rehabilitation camp for troubled children to maybe blow off some steam and to perhaps learn how to interact with his peers in a healthy manner. After the summer of '92, it had helped tremendously. After the summer of '93, Eric's ill temperament had been reduced to nothing. After that summer, Eric had already begun to evolve into what the family had grown to love him as; a happy-go-lucky dunce.

"It's been years," Cory whispered aloud to himself. He flipped through the pages quickly, finding a picture of Eric's cabin. His brother smiled through the page. He had his arm around a thin boy with long orange hair and ice blue eyes adorned in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. Eric's other arm found solace around another lanky boy with hazel hair to march his hazel eyes. Two girls with light brown hair boy sat at the trio's feet, accompanied by a chubby boy with raven-black hair and eyes deep set underneath his large forehead. Cory chuckled at the children's 90's attire. "Look at the hair! I'll have to show Topanga." He placed the book atop the box and exited the room, giving one last glance to the room he and his brother had shared before finally closing the door.

Although Cory had enjoyed looking at his brother's happy memories, an uneasy question resided in the back of his mind: why had his brother hid the book in the ceiling of the closet?


	2. Chapter 2

November 9, 2001

"Milk, eggs, chicken…" Amy Matthews mused to herself as she sat at the kitchen table. She held the list up to the light and sighed, marveling at the meager list of provisions. It was both a gift and a curse to have Cory and Eric out of the house. It had been almost six months since her oldest sons had graced its halls. Morgan and Josh offered solace to the aging mother, but without Cory and Eric in the house, she would never feel quite the same. She was outwardly proud of Cory, her bookish son acquiring a prestigious position as an accountant with dozens of museums and law firms in Philadelphia, but she couldn't exactly face her feelings about her eldest son. A few days after Cory and Topanga had announced that they were staying in Philadelphia, Eric called his old homestead late one night from the apartment he still shared with Jack.

"Mom," he had said with an eerie nonchalance, "I'm hitting the train to New York tonight. Tell Dad and the rest that I love them, ok?"

"Alright, I suppose," she had replied numbly, in shock that her son had consciously made such an important decision of his own accord, "please be careful!" she added, but the line had gone dead in the middle of 'be.' She had called Allen into the kitchen and told him what had happened. Allen had proposed that they try to go and say goodbye, but they decided against it. It was too late for that. It was too late for a lot of things. Both parents had felt that could have done more, but time had run out.

The next day, Jack had called the Matthews house in panic, wondering were Eric had gone off to. Eric had not given any indication to his long time roommate that he was leaving and Amy had to be the one to relay the news. Eric had cleaned out his entire room while Jack and Rachel were on a date. Frankly, after the unsettling phone call she had begun to worry. What in the world does Eric want to do in New York? How would he survive out there? She had heard from him every two or three weeks these past six months and every time he called it was short and direct. He hadn't even told his mother where he was or what he was doing. Every menacing thought that could possibly invade her psyche consumed her days. A little, innocent (dumb) lamb with Eric's trademark sense of child-like wonder in the midst of the wolves of New York could meet all sorts of tragic ends. People died in New York by the thousands every year and Eric could easily be one of them. The harsh city did not take kindly to the weak and as much as Amy hated to admit it, Eric was weak. A knock on the door jarred her out of her thoughts. She stuffed the lack luster list into her purse and scampered to the door. What met her on the other side literally took her breath away.

The first thing that Amy noticed was that Eric had lost about 25 pounds, easy. His once thick face and frame had melted away, his flannel plaid shirt and black leather jacket hanging on his frame, his eyes hidden by aviator style sunglasses. He swiftly removed them and tucked them in his collar revealing his big brown eyes that were slightly sunken in their sockets. His hair, short and styled in the last days before his departure, had grown out once more, but hung around his face in stringy strands. As Eric was standing there, a mere two feet away from her, she could smell the unmistakable scent of his body odor.

"So I suppose you want a roof over your head again," Amy said, the bitterness in her tone betraying her heart.

Eric smiled sadly. "Just for a couple weeks. I promise, Mom," he pleaded, suitcase in hand. "I just need some time to figure things out. New York didn't prove to be that…great." There was a solemn, defeated tone in her son's voice, a component she never heard unless he was sincerely out of options. She looked at him, still bewildered that he was standing before her. "I know you must be disappointed in me, but what else is new right?"

A long pause ensued. Amy didn't really know what to say. She had rehearsed so many scenarios in her head, but this was never one of them and even if it was, her brain simply wouldn't work properly. Eric's body visibly tensed in the slightest way only a mother can sense. "I'm serious, Mom. I've tried everything and I've run out of money. I have nowhere to go. I'll work at dad's store until I can…uh" His face comically scrunched in thought and his eyes conveyed a desperate longing to be in a familiar setting. He opened his mouth to say something but decided against it and hung his head, letting out a sigh before meeting Amy's eyes once more.

"Look for a steady job and move out for good?" Amy finished, slightly shaking her head. Sometimes it really pained her to have a son that was so incredibly dense, especially since he had not always been that way. In fact, Eric was quite bright as a child, always excelling faster than the rest of his peers to the delightful surprise of both his teachers and his parents. His quick wit was unparalleled, but as the years passed, Eric seemed to become more and more dull, especially during his high school years. During those times, she would sometimes lay awake as the rest of her family slumbered and resist the burning urge to go into Eric and Cory's room, slap Eric across the face and ask him one simple question:

_What went wrong here with you? What the hell happened to my little boy?_

"I'll even drive Josh and Morgan around and I'll sleep in Josh's room on a cot or something," Eric continued to persuade his mother, a devious smile gracing his features now. "I'll even help dad with the yard and junk." He knew she couldn't resist his puppy dog eyes.

Amy chuckled. The dull, goofy Eric was back. He obviously didn't realize that it was about 30 degrees outside already, and soon there would be no yard to be groomed. Amy threw her head back in exasperation, knowing somehow that she had been had.

"I'll have to talk it over with your father, although I doubt he'll say no," she extended her arm in welcome to her son. "You can use the air mattress in Josh's room for the time being." Eric smiled warmly in relief, dropped his battered suitcase and encased his mother into a hug. Amy inwardly cringed and could now fully tell that he had not showered in a few days, imagining those imaginary cartoon stink lines that would come off of countless characters.

"First, you need a bath. I'll get you set up upstairs," she gently pushed him away. "What would you like for dinner?"

"Anything's fine with me. I'm a guest in this house," Eric raised his free hand to give the standard Boy Scout salute. "I'm only temporary. Scout's honor." He began to make his way upstairs, lugging his suitcase through the kitchen and to his old abode.

"But honey!" Amy yelled after him following him through the kitchen and to the stairs, "you were never in the Boy Scouts!"

"It still stands, compadre!" Eric replied, the old familiar inflection in his voice again. He bounced up the staircase and was gone.

Amy shook her head in disbelief, a smile threatening to envelope her face but only making itself known through a minute flicker at the corner of her lips. She had never been more relieved in all of her life. But before she could relish the feeling she heard a quick knock at the kitchen door. Upon opening it, she saw that it was their beloved family friend, Mr. Feeny.

"Hello there," the friendly man said, a vibrant grin on his face. "Did you by any chance still have the silver I let you borrow a few months ago? I hate to ask you with such short notice, but-"

"Of course, George," Amy replied, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry for the delay, I should have given them back to you sooner. Come on in and I'll fetch it for you." She walked to the cabinets and opened one, searching for the borrowed eating utensils.

"What's the occasion, a nice night with the dean? Amy poked her head out from behind the pine door with a suggestive smirk.

"No, no," Mr. Feeny said with a laugh, "I wish! The dean is actually attending a President's leadership summit in Boston. The dean's niece, Alexandra is coming to stay at the Feeny house for a week or so while she moves into an apartment. She just graduated from a college and I want her first night in the Feeny home to be celebratory." George smiled. "She's a delightful, bright young girl. She turned 23 this spring. She wants to be Medical Doctor, just like her uncle.

"That sounds so nice to have a successful 23 year old instead of one that's still living here on the lamb," Amy remarked with a sigh. George looked at Amy with question. "Eric's back," Amy stated, answering Mr. Feeny mental query. They looked at each other for a moment, a silent lament passing in between them.

_Poor Eric. Never going to make it out there. No matter how hard we try…_

"So," Amy said, louder than she had intended, as if trying to drown out their inner disappointment. "What are you cooking for her?"

"Umm…." his face went slightly pale. "You know, I haven't really thought of anything yet. I was so busy getting her room ready and cleaning the house that I forgot to go to the supermarket." He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and swiped his damp forehead. "I have about three hours to whip something up."

"George, you are such a man," Amy stated with a friendly scoff, placing the mahogany box containing the silver onto the counter. "Tell you what, how about I cook for you two also and we just come over to your nice clean house for dinner. I was planning on making something special to make Eric feel more at home. Plus, it's sort of silly for you to go through such trouble for just the two of you. I'd like to meet this Alexandra anyways. Since she's a part of your family, I consider her a part of our family as well."

"That sounds _splendid_ Amy! Are you sure?" George was more than happy with his turn of events. Without the Lila, the only connection between himself and Alexandra, he was a bit worried that their dinner would be slightly awkward. She hadn't even attended the wedding for very long. She had come to the reception for fifteen minutes and then had gracefully departed. From what he understood, though Lila's stories, Alexandra was that kind of woman, always dropping in and then leaving to live her busy life.

"I'm sure Alexandra would feel the same way too. Women's code." Amy retorted with a wink. "Plus, I'd like to cook something substantial for a change. I'll just bring the silverware then. How does seven thirty sound to you?"

"That would be just fine, my dear just like the good ol' days when Cory and Eric were knee-high and Morgan wasn't even thought about," Mr. Feeny replied, sighing in relief. "She should be there by then." His eyes glittered with appreciation. "I can't thank you enough Amy, really,"

Amy placed the mahogany box that contained the well-used silver she had borrowed for Alan's recent birthday back into the cabinet. Eric had been the only family member not in attendance, much to the chagrin of the entire family. Even Joshua had asked where his brother was and it pained Amy to not be able to answer such a simple question about someone who meant so much to him.

"Anytime, George. Oh! Are you and Lila still coming over here for Thanksgiving even though there's a new guest?"

The Feeny's had decided last month to have Thanksgiving dinner over at the Matthew's this year. Dean Bolander had no family other than Alexandra, whose mother had died when she was only six and her sister, Catrina, had flown the coop, never to contact the Bolander family again. She had said that she would not make it due to plans with her new fiancé, but that had changed with the big move to Philadelphia. Although Amy did not foresee an extra guest, but she lived proudly by the old mantra, 'the more the merrier.'

"If you'd have us," George replied. "I didn't know she was coming until yesterday myself, it was a spur of the moment thing, so to say. She had to call me from the summit to tell me. Apparently, she's taking a semester off before going to medical school in Philadelphia and made these plans rathar quickly. Doesn't bother me much. I'm always happy to have company and I'm sure Lila is thrilled that her granddaughter has decided to move to the city of brotherly love for good."

"That's great! I'm so excited!" Amy clapped her hands in anticipation. "It's going to be a nice, old-fashioned get together!"

"I'm practically shivering with expectation too darling! My stomach is growling already" Mr. Feeny replied, taking his leave.

Amy smiled to herself as she pulled he list out of her purse. A wave of thrill coursed through her body. She was going to have to add a few things, for her shopping list would be full tonight.

The sink was full of defrosting rib-eye steaks and Amy was beginning to sauté vegetables when Alan entered the kitchen, a perplexed look on his face. He gestured his arm toward the front door. "Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or is that Eric's bucket of bolts outside?"

"Your eyes are not playing tricks on you, sweet husband of mine. He's here," Amy replied her eyes never leaving her culinary work although she could feel her husband's eyebrows furrow in question.

"What the _hell_ is he doing here? Isn't he supposed to be in New York or something?" Anger and hurt laced his voice.

"It didn't agree with him and he asked if he could bunk here for a few weeks." Amy finally met his gaze, butterflies fluttering in her belly. "He needs to stay here, Alan. He has no place to go and that's final."

Alan and his son Eric definitely had a love-hate relationship. When Eric was a baby, Alan could not keep his hands off of him. He loved his son as much as a father could love a child, nick-naming him 'the apple of my eye.' However, as Cory and Morgan were born, Eric had felt like he was losing his father's love. More and more of Alan's time were being monopolized away from time usually spent with Eric. While other older siblings would simply make the necessary mental adjustments to accommodate the sudden new additions to the family, Eric had gone in the opposite direction. In a few short years, Eric had gone from a bright happy boy to a quiet, sporadically violent kid. In fact, in sixth grade, he had become so outraged with a student that he stabbed a pencil into the offending student's hand. Whether he had psychotic tendencies from birth and Alan helped to suppress them, or if the arrival of is siblings had everything to do with it could not be determined by the psychiatrist the Matthew's hastily put Eric in contact with after the incident.

That's when Mr. Feeny and the school guidance counselor had suggested Eric be enrolled in a special camp in Maryland. This retreat focused on "at-risk" children whom could be easily turned around. Camp Sequoia, Mr. Feeny had explained would help Eric interact in a healthy manner with his peers and teach him skills such as leadership and teamwork.

"My own nephew goes there and it has worked wonders for him," the wise instructor had assured the concerned parents. After much deliberation, the Matthews had decided to send him for the summer of '92; just in order to see if something like that could work. Eric had loved it so much that he had asked to go back for the summer of '93. After that summer, Eric declared that he was too old to go to the camp and had refused to step on as a counselor, so that was the end of it, and from then on out Eric had grown up, the years distancing himself from his shady childhood past and, to a less beneficial extent, from his brains.

"No, he's not!" Alan yelped, He left this house for good and that's it!" He grabbed his wife by the shoulders, shaking her in beat with his voice for emphasis. "He Needs. To. Let. Go. Of. Us!"

"Alan!" Amy exclaimed in disbelief, shocked at her husband forward commentary and unusually physical behavior. "It's a blessing in disguise. George has the dean's granddaughter coming and forgot to cook, so we're going over there for dinner tonight with the two of them.

Alan sighed. "I think I need to go talk to him,"

"Alan-" Amy began

"That's final," Alan curtly responded, effectively cutting his wife off and retreating up the stairs.

Alan opened the door. Josh had gone to a friend's house for the night, so when he saw Eric laying on his old bed in a tattered mighty ducks jersey and forest green sweatpants, a small part of him tingled with nostalgia. In spite of himself, he missed his son terribly.

Eric, whose eyes had been closed, immediately sensed there was someone in the room and shot his body up into a sitting position with almost comical speed. He met his father's eyes. Alan was shocked by the physical change in Eric, focusing on his tried dull eyes. All anger he had felt towards his son as he mounted the stairs dissolved within him almost instantly, his fatherly instinct raging instead with full force.

"Yeah?" Eric began, no happiness in his voice like with his mother earlier, "you wanna tell me how disappointed you are in me, what a screw-up I am?"

_Well, his certainly had decided to lay all of his cards on the table_. Alan looked at his eldest son, a mixture of discernment and failure as a father consuming his thoughts. His eyes misted over, relief that his son was at least within reach, but quickly gained his composure. He sat on the bed and placed a firm reassuring hand on Eric's shoulder.

"Eric, I love you very much," Alan cupped Eric's face in his hands "but you get three weeks at the most and then I don't want you sleeping under my roof anymore. Get it together."

"Sure dad," his son replied, nodding in understanding. "Ok."

"Put something nicer on. Mom's making you something really nice for dinner tonight and I think we are going to Mr. Feeny's." With that, he left.

"Something smells good," Eric commented, coming down the stairs into the kitchen, meeting Morgan and his mother in the kitchen. He had ditched the sweatpants at his father's request and put on a suit his mother had saved for him in his closet. With the gray dress pants with a matching gray dress jacket and a black turtleneck, Eric almost looked like his old self, a stark contrast to how he had looked earlier. "We going to Feeny's tonight?"

"Yes," Amy was putting mashed potatoes in a decorative Tupperware container. "George has Lila's granddaughter coming. She's just graduated from the University of Pennsylvania."

"Boring!" Eric exclaimed, "I didn't come home to listen to the dean's ugly relative talk about college!"

"She's 23," Morgan stated, a suggestive inflection in her voice. "Plus, you don't know if she's ugly." Morgan had not taken Eric's departure as hard as the rest of the family. She understood him the most. She also felt like she had no place in the household, so she had a silent rapport with him.

Eric put his arm around his little sister. "If she's that smart, she's U-G-L-Y!" he retorted.

"Eric! That's not nice!" Morgan replied. "Being smart doesn't always mean being ugly as well!"

"Believe me weasel," Eric began. Amy smiled at the emergence of Morgan's old nickname. She hadn't heard that particular loving endearment for at least six years.

"With my years of female experience, smart equals monstrous. For example, Jane Goodall, any female scientist who ever lived for that matter…"

Alan rolled his eyes. "Here Casanova," Alan placed the box of silverware in Eric's hands. "Take these across the street in a minute." Alan grabbed the plate of steaks with aluminum foil over them and the Matthews family journeyed across the alley.

As they knocked, Mr. Feeny answered the door, still fumbling with his bowtie that masterfully accompanied his sweater vest and suit pants.

"Hello all! So nice to see you!" Suddenly a look of realization poured over his features. Oh my God, the…." Mr. Feeny said as he turned his back to run comically into the kitchen, both of his hands in the air.

"I think I smell something burning?" Amy whispered to Alan as the downsized family stepped into the side doorway immediately into the dining room. "Oh no!" was also heard, along with the sound of windows opening

"I think you're right. Probably something that was supposed to be sweet." Eric commented.

"Well, dessert is out," Feeny materialized out of the thin sheen of smoke, his glasses comically fogged up.

"If I only had a nickel…" Eric whispered to himself. Amy and Morgan looked at Eric in question to his remark.

"Please," George motioned toward the large rectangular dinning room table that was elegantly covered with a pearly white tablecloth, all of the place settings immaculately set except for the silverware. Amy flushed at the sight of origami cloth napkins neatly placed in crystal glasses. "Sit down." Mr. Feeny took his glasses off and started to clean them.

"I just have Tupperware!" Amy looked at Alan with eyes full of dread.

"Sit, Mom. It's cool. Play it cool, that's my motto." Eric proceeded to take the silverware out of the box quickly.

"Wait! It might be best if I do that…" George replied, arranging the silver perfectly on the tabletop while the Matthews sat in the Feeny dining room, which had obviously not had a makeover since 1984. The family sat around the table.

"So," Amy inquired. "Where's Alexandra?"

"Running a little late. Apparently traffic is very bad tonight due to some fog that approached us from the west this afternoon, but she will be here shortly." George replied, taking his seat beside Morgan, leaving a place for Alexandra to the right of him.

As if on cue, the sound of screeching tires could be heard outside. Mr. Feeny cringed. "My petunia plants…" he commented to himself.

"I'm here, George! Sorry, sorry, sorry!" A feminine voice approached the door.

"There she is," George said, hurrying to the door, opening to reveal the woman behind.

"Hey George! I'm so sorry I'm late!" She gave him a quick hug and removed her red coat, draping it over her arm, striding into the foyer. "Traffic was…" she saw the Matthews at the table. Amy was, of course, smiling at her with an almost creepy enthusiasm.

"Oh!" Alexandra gasped and then chuckled warmly, "You guys startled me. I didn't think you'd have guests, George. I hate to impose!" Alexandra Kincaid was dressed in a black turtleneck and a green plaid skirt accompanied by black stockings and matching black pumps. She graciously smiled and ran her fingers through her dirty blonde hair that reached her shoulders.

"No, you're not imposing. These are the Matthew's. They're friends of the family and Amy was kind enough to cook us dinner for an old fool who can't even boil water." He shrugged in a matter of fact manner. "Please, I saved a seat for you." He pulled a chair back and seated her.

"Thank you so much, Amy," Alexandra felt a bit uncomfortable. She wasn't used to this much company. A heavy workload and heavy school load was not conducive to an active social life.

"Welcome, honey. It's very nice to meet you." Amy smiled.

"Nice to meet you too. Thank you for going through so much trouble, it looks amazing and I'm starved after a long drive." Her green eyes sparkled and the candlelight from the table illuminated her fair face.

"Joke's on you," Morgan slyly remarked, nudging Eric.

"Shut up, _wease_," he whispered back, kicking her under the table.

Alexandra was introduced to each individual member of the Matthew's family, ending with Eric, who utter a simple, 'hi, how are you?' before proceeding to grab a steak. There was a large, pregnant pause as everyone took the lead for Eric, passing each dish around.

"So," Amy began after five minutes of silence and silverware clanking, wanting to break the ice and elevate the stale atmosphere. "Alexandra, George tells me that you just graduated from college."

"Well, I graduated from Yale this spring with my Master's degree. I still have my doctorate to get and a residency to complete, but I'll get it done as time goes on."

"Wow!" Alan commented, "That's spectacular from 23! Our son, Eric, is 23 and just graduated from Pennbrook." Alan gestured to Eric who was sitting diagonally from Alexandra.

"That's neat," Alexandra affirmed. ". Grandma was a professor there for couple years before she became dean and I would get dropped off at the college after school when I was younger." She looked at Eric. "What did you major in there?

Amy and Alan tensed and Amy reached for Alan's hand under the table. There was simply no telling what would come out of his mouth. He once told a potential employer that he had majored in gynecology.

"Oh, a little of everything. Pennbrook is no Ya-lay, so I'm actually in between jobs right now, but I want to be," Eric looked into the distance not unlike Superman after he rescued a damsel in distress before he whispered dramatically, "a weatherman…"

Amy looked at Alan and rolled her eyes. Morgan giggled as Feeny took out his handkerchief once more.

"Potatoes, George?" Amy hurriedly asked, passing the gooey goodness to her old friend.

"Well, you certainly have the face for it," Alexandra commented, taking a sip of water from one of the house's crystal glasses. She winked at him discreetly.

"See mom and dad!" Eric said proudly with child-like wonder, "thank you very much, Cindy." Eric replied with a equally child-like smile and playfully winked in return.

Mr. Feeny laughed nervously. There was an incredibly awkward silence.

Dinner was uneventful for the rest of the night, filled with small talk about the weather and the going's on of the small neighborhood in which they lived.

"May I use your bathroom, Feeny?" Eric asked as the meal was coming to a close.

"Of course. Just don't leave the water on like last time. I thought I would never get that place dry again.

Alexandra snickered quietly. "I was 16. Let it go," Eric said in a serious tone before disappearing up the stairs. eyes before answering another probing question from Amy.

He closed the door and turned around, taking in the small cubicle of a restroom. Like the kitchen, the bathroom was sorely outdated. Everything including the sink and the toilet itself was a sickly sky blue. If Eric weren't in bigger distress, he would notice it first before anything else.

"Calm down, Eric," he said to himself, hastily turning on the water and dunking his hands in the small puddle splashing the water on his face. "Just a few days and she'll be gone forever. What the fuck is she doing here? You didn't tie up the loose ends this time, Matthews." Eric resisted the urge to punch the mirror and if it was his own personal mirror, he probably would.

"Why can't she just leave me alone? Damn her, I should've taken care of her in New York," he clutched and squeezed the sides of the sink for support, tears threatening to form in his eyes. "Isn't what she did to me enough. God…I wanna just bash her brains in, just bash them right in, just _right in_, quick and easy, right in…" He looked at himself in the mirror, whispering those few words trying his hardest to mentally compose himself.

"Get your _shit_ together. She has no control over you," Eric assured himself, breathing deeply in and out and then in again.

"Get it together, old man…"

"Thank you so very much for dinner, Amy," George said, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and hanging it in his foyer.

"It's no problem, George, I really enjoyed myself! Morgan, help me with the dishes," Morgan and her mother began to swiftly clear the table when their new acquaintance intervened.

"You really shouldn't deal with the dishes, Mrs. Matthews, I've got it…" Alexandra stated, beginning to pick dishes up from the opposite end of the table.

"Oh no, I've got it." Amy replied.

"Listen, you did all of the hard work by cooking this awesome meal. The least I can do is wash the dishes," A look of sincerity graced her features. "I washed thousands of dishes in college to help pay for my tuition. It's no big deal, I'd be happy to do it. In fact, I'll bring by the clean dishes tomorrow morning before I start unpacking.

Amy smiled. "Well thank you so much, my dear!" She patted the young girl on the back.

"Well then, I guess we better get going. Morgan has school in the morning," Alan declared making his way to the door. "Are you sure you don't need anything, George? Alexandra?"

"I believe we are fine for tonight, right darling?" George called for Alexandra in the kitchen.

"Oh yes, just fine," Alexandra replied, emerging for the kitchen. "It was so nice to meet all of you and I look forward to seeing you very soon!" She waved to the family, a dish rag already in her hand.

"Very nice to meet you as well," Amy acknowledged, making her way to the door.

"Where's Eric?" Morgan asked scanning the room for him.

"Oh! He's in the bathroom. We'll go ahead and go George. Will you send him over when he gets out?" Amy asked.

"Oh course," he replied, pushing the chairs into the large chestnut dining table. After the sound of the shutting door signified the Matthew's departure, George entered the kitchen.

"Do you want any help?" he asked, rolling up his blue pinstriped sleeve.

"No thanks, I have this. No trouble at all," Alexandra replied, occupying her mind with th task at hand.

George felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, like he had done something wrong. He was so nervous, not wanting to offend his wife's relative in any way. He wondered if he should take her lack of interest in him as a bad sign. Or was he, as Lila had said many times during their new life together, worrying too much over nothing?

Alexandra sensed his worries when her new family member hesitated to speak.

"Thank you very much for letting me stay here in your house, George. This was very kind of you and grandma. You didn't have to do it, so I am eternally grateful."

Relief flushed through his body. Lila was right again, as she almost always was.

"You are most welcome, my dear," George avowed.

"Where did everyone go?" a voice filled the small kitchen. Alexandra and George followed the noise and saw Eric leaning against the doorway, he presence conveying a sense of control even though his words were laced with slight distress.

"They left. You can go whenever you feel," George responded.

"Fair enough," he answered, and in true Eric Matthews style, he swaggered toward Alexandra, swiftly taking his sunglasses out of his pants pocket and gracefully placed them on his face. The last thing he would want Alexandra to see was his disdain for her is his eyes. If he had learned anything in his life, it's best not to ever show your true emotions.

"Very nice to meet you, Karen," Eric smoothly stated, offering his hand.

"_Promise me you guys," Eric pleaded, tears filling his eyes. "Promise me that after tomorrow, you'll forget about me, about us, about all of this." He gestured to the desolate woods that surrounded them. "This will be our last Liar's meeting. It has been an honor to be friends with each and every one of you, but I feel like we need to move on with our lives…and in order to do that, we must never speak about what transpired in these woods yesterday… Agreed?" Eric stood in the dimly lit darkness and untied the red bandana that had been faithfully secured around his wrist during his entire stay at Camp Sequoia. He immediately felt naked and vulnerable without it, for it represented the unspoken support between his cabin mates._

_He held his favor above the blazing fire pit, taking in the expressions of five of the closest friends he would ever have… "Chase?" He whispered._

_Beside Eric, a lanky boy's hazel eyes also glittered with tears. His body trembled with emotion. He jerked his yellow bandana. "Agreed," he replied his voice wavering slightly. He stood and suspended his beloved garment above the flames. Chase then turned to a tall girl with blonde hair that haphazardly fell around her green eyes. Her bright purple flannel shirt contrasted with the bleakness of the woods that surrounded them as well as the darkness in each of their hearts. He would end up never forgetting that shirt for as long as he lived. "Andy?" He grabbed her hand and gently tugged her into a standing position._

_Her lips trembled and she covered her mouth to stifle a sob. _

"_Can't believe it's come to this," Andy lamented as she removed the purple fabric from around her neck. "But, as much as it hurts…" She held it above the heat and gazed into the fire, bitterness and anger consuming her soul. "Agreed." She then turned to a pale, blue-eyed boy. His skin looked almost ghostly in the circle as he solemnly removed his dark blue bandana from his wrist, kissing the fabric before following suit behind his friends._

"_Agreed," Jason replied before letting out a long breath, his Blind Melon concert T-shirt glowing in the light._

_He looked upon the face of the last member of their close society whose blue eyes matched his own and filled with identical sadness. He tipped his head to her in acknowledgement. She reluctantly stood, removing her red Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap that had been a gift from Eric to reveal her turquoise bandana, which was tied tightly around her ponytail. She tugged at the loose end, letting her long light brown waves cascade down her shoulders. She looked at Jason for a moment, trying to gather strength from the friend she had known for two summers and from whom she would separate herself from after the next passing day. She lowered her head as she held her piece of cloth near the hot flames. _

"_Alex?" Jason said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at Eric, who was situated directly in front of her._

"_Damn you," she whispered, only loud enough for Eric to hear. "Agreed," she vocalized in a louder tone._

"_Then it's done." Eric observed, his eyes conveying unfathomable control and stability. "We will release these on one and the decision will be final. After the garments are burned, so are our physical ties to one another. However, we will always be obligated to offer a helping hand to a brother or sister in need, shall we ever pass ways again after our departure from this place tomorrow. We will start the countdown in clockwise order." Eric sighed, realizing that they were standing mere feet away from where the incident occurred, an incident that would undoubtedly take an unconscious toll on all of them and would shape their futures for years to come. _

"_Five" Chase begun._

"_Four" Andy followed._

"_Three" Jason whispered, closing his eyes._

"_Two," Alex said, never loosing Eric's gaze._

"_One," Eric followed, completing the decision._

_They dropped their bandanas into the flames, watching them as they burned quickly into ashes as they spoke in unison._

"_Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence."_

_They stood there for what seemed like forever, feeling each other's energies for the last time._

"_I here by adjourn this meeting of the Liar's Club. Until next time…" Eric said before he inwardly kicked himself, for they would never see each other again in this setting._

"_Have a good one," Chase said as he did at every meeting, making his rounds to each member before putting the fire out. As they left, each member walked in an opposite direction each feeling like they had all gained fifty pounds in the soul._

She smiled up at him, lightly chuckling. "Very nice to meet you too_. _I'll be seeing you."

He didn't reply with anything, quietly fading away and out of the door. For the first time in a long time, Eric Matthews felt as if he did not have control over his life like he thought he did.


	3. Chapter 3

November 10, 2000

"Morgan! Come down right now or you'll miss the bus!" Amy called from behind the island. Coffee brewed with a gentle hum in its percolator, filling the room with a warm, sweet, pleasant smell. Morgan, however, had no time for such things. She was at the age where primping before school was as much a part of her daily routine as brushing her teeth. Amy, who had been up for a while and had just dropped Joshua off at the daycare center, was still riding off of the excitement of having another one of her children under her roof, and was frying bacon and cracking eggs for the first time since her eldest son had been home. Her mission for the next couple of days was simple: she had to get more meat on his bones and since he was the only one in the family that actually enjoyed bacon and eggs, she figured that this was as good a start as any. She glanced briefly in his direction, noting how his cheekbones had never quite jutted out quite like they had after he had shaved the night before for dinner at the Feeny household.

He had been up before her this morning and had been the one to start coffee, another couple of firsts. Adorned in his familiar green plaid robe, frayed with age, he sat quietly at the kitchen table, the morning's paper in front of him.

"Are you alright, honey?" She had asked, slightly disturbed with her son's odd behavior.

"Oh yeah, mom," he had replied calmly, his sullen eyes never leaving the thin gray material. "Just looking at the classifieds."

Amy was surprised at his eagerness to seek gainful employment. Normally, it was like pulling teeth to get Eric to do much of anything. Her stomach was in knots, a dull painful ache that signified her suspicions were correct. Something had happened in New York or on the way home, and it had changed him. Whether for better or for worse was yet to seen, but she didn't hold out much hope for him.

_Have I ever given him any hope?_ The Annoying Voice of Reason inside her head proclaimed before going quiet again.

"Two or three, Eric?" she asked, turning to look in his direction, her spatula suspended in the air momentarily.

"Three," he replied, taking a sip of coffee from his favorite mug. It was one of the oldest ones in the house with the Grouch on it. Under the green creature in his customary trashcan, black letters clearly spelled out "Don't be such a Grouch!" As a child, Eric would watch hours and hours of Sesame Street and he would always giggle the most when the Grouch came out to play. Two weeks after Eric had left, Amy had found that very same mug in the cupboard and hadn't stopped crying for two days.

Eric nonchalantly pulled out the comic section from the paper and began to read. "Less comics, more classifieds," Amy remarked, flipping the bacon and pouring orange into a small glass. She put the food on a plate and served it to him, waiting for one of Eric's famous smart-aleck responses. But none came.

"Sure," Eric's replied in a robot-like monotone voice as he crumpled up the comics and returned his attention to the job section. Amy looked at him with concern. Normally he wore his emotions on his sleeve, but the man sitting in front of her was emotionally distant, bordering on downright cold.

"Eric, are you alright?" She reached out and placed a loving hand on his shoulder.

"Never better," Eric replied, giving his mother a smile before taking another sip of coffee.

The front door opened and slammed. Cory and Topanga were in the kitchen within seconds.

"Well, lookie who we have here. The prodigal son returns once more, huh Topanga?" Cory walked over and hugged Amy. "Mom, how are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied, uneasy about Cory's demeanor. "Much better than you were when this _low life_ left town without saying anything huh?" Topanga scoffed. She liked Eric and really didn't hold any animosity over what he had done. However, she would probably never tell Cory that, for she played the roll of a soundboard and would almost always agree with Cory if that meant that Cory would calm down for a few minutes.

Eric put the paper down on the table and looked up at his brother. "Listen, Cory. What I do in my life really isn't any of your business. I'm back from New York. I'm never going back. It's done."

"Done?!" Cory practically screamed, a sharp contrast to his brother's calm tone. He grabbed the front of Eric's robe, his eyes nearly black with anger. "Do you have _any _idea how many nights I stayed awake, praying that your _dumbass_," a bit of saliva hit Eric on the forehead, "wasn't lying dead in a gutter somewhere? How is that not my business?"

Topanga stood back beside Amy, dumbfounded. "Mrs. Matthews?" She whispered into the air desperation in her voice, "Please do something." She almost never saw Cory truly mad, and if she were honest with herself, when moments like these transpired, it scared the shit out of her to see that side of him.

Amy, who had decided to let her sons talk this out, judged that it had indeed gone too far too fast; certainly much farther than she thought Cory would take it. "Cory! Get off of your brother _right now! _Honestly you two…"

Cory continued, "I can't even imagine what Mom and Dad went though." Cory finally let him go, at his mother's command, but couldn't begin to stop dumping his feelings on his estranged relative. "You are so selfish Eric. I was going to name a child after you, but the thought of having a child _like _you makes me so sick I don't even want to risk it."

Eric stepped back, his robe now open, showing his white t-shirt and blue boxer shorts. "I really don't care what you think," he said, to the surprise of everyone in the room. "A few weeks and I'm out of your life, you self-righteous prick. I had no problem with you so why do you have to have a problem with me? I'm 23 years old. I can make my own decisions."

Cory sighed. "You've made all of the wrong ones, Eric. You should be settled down by now, but you just can't hack it."

"That's your life, Cory, not mine." Eric could see the hurt in his little brother's eyes and for the first time since his journey back to Philly, he realized how much he had hurt his family. Cory had always known just the right buttons to punch to strike a sore nerve and his wished his soul could mirror the pain apparent in Cory's eyes, but his own brown irises looked glazed over, lifeless. "My reasons were my own and I'm not going to apologize for it, end of story. Listen, I'm sorry that you are hurt, alright? Truce?" Eric stuck out his hand, willing to bite the bullet for his brother's sake. The real truth was, he didn't care about much of anything anymore. Not after the events that had taken place in New York. He wanted nothing more than to just fade away into the distance and live a simple life alone, especially after last night. The last thing he had needed was a literal dinner date with his biggest problem. Maybe if he were on good terms with his family, they would just leave him alone once he left for good.

"Maybe," Cory replied, returning Eric's handshake with less than stellar enthusiasm, Topanga and Amy looked on awkwardly.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the kitchen door. Amy rushed to open it, grateful for something to distract her from the uncomfortable tension in the room. Alexandra poked her head into the kitchen, her attire much different from what the Matthew's saw her dressed in the night before. Black sweatpants hung loosely on her hips under a matching shapeless, faded sweatshirt with UPENN stitched on the front in big orange letters. Her hear was tied into a floppy bun her face was devoid of makeup, and clean Tupperware rested in her arms.

"Is now a good time?" She sheepishly asked waiting in the doorway to be invited in. Amy exhaled, thankful for the heaven-sent diversion. Topanga nervously crossed the room and stood next to her husband. Eric made eye contact with her before quickly shifting them downward. He yanked the newspaper off of the kitchen table.

"No," Eric replied. "It's not. I was just leaving to find a job and become a productive member of society and not just some hot piece of village idiot. You know, settle down." He made eye contact with her again, but with more confidence than the first time. "Nice to see you again, Alexandra."

_Wait, he knows her name now?_ Amy thought, before dismissing it quickly and deciding that she was reading far too much into things.

"You too…um?" Alexandra eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "I'm so sorry, what was your name again?"

"Eric, but don't worry about it, I'm a 'shove to the side' kind of guy anyway."

Alexandra diverted her eyes as if his statement embarrassed her.

Eric then quickly passed the two ladies and retreated to his old abode, glad to be out of the way. Alexandra discreetly followed him with her eyes before returning her attention to Amy.

"Here you go, Mrs. Matthews. All ready to use again." She smiled amicably, passing them over with care.

"Thank you so much, Alexandra, and please, don't fell bad about Eric. It was nothing you said," Amy replied, pulling out a well-worn step stool, and began to place the accessories in their appropriate places very carefully. After all, that was Amy's way. Everything was done with caution and precision, even something as seemingly mundane as putting clean dishes away. She was the same way with people. Except for Alexandra. While it had taken her almost a year to warm up to Shawn, who was now as much a part of the family as George Feeny, she had felt completely at ease with Lila's granddaughter almost the moment she had met her. Looking into her face and hearing her speak last night had begun solidifying her warm, nearly motherly feelings that she had felt when the new girl had made her second appearance seconds before. _It's a shame, really,_ she thought, _that Eric isn't more like her. Maybe Eric could meet someone like that, someone refined and intelligent._

She heard the front kitchen door shut, and assumed that Alexandra had taken her leave. 

_Phat chance he would do that well._

A harsh, female tone sliced through her thoughts. "Who is this?" Topanga asked, taking in the strange woman standing so close to her mother-in-law. Cory inwardly cringed. After her parents split up, she was a lot less trusting of people than in years past, and it was just getting worse with the passing years. Once, she had welcomed every living creature on the planet into her world. When Cory was 13, he used to fantasize about Topanga being Mother Earth in disguise, loving all things. But as he looked at her now, her eyes narrowed slightly at a guest in his mother's house, he secretly yearned for that girl again.

Alexandra locked eyes with the source of the noise, the accusing stare making her instantly uneasy. She bit in the inside of her cheek, praying that Eric had never said a word about her to any of his family.

"Oh." Amy descended the step stool, unaware of the weird vibe in the room, "how rude of me!" she exclaimed, abruptly ending her task. "This is Alexandra Kincaid." She put a reassuring hand on Alexandra's shoulder. "She's Dean Bolander's granddaughter. We met her at dinner last night and she was bringing my clean dishes back. She washed them for me. Isn't that kind of her?"

"Hello," Alexandra meekly said, nodding her head in acknowledgement to the couple. The man looked at her with a perplexed stare. "Hey," he replied. "My name is Cory Matthews. I'm Eric's brother." He cocked his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows, as if he was trying to say something, but couldn't quite find the words in which to say it.

The other woman moved her body so that she was between her and her husband. To Alexandra, this particular territorial gesture betrayed her emotions. She was smiling, but her eyes were telling a different story. "And I'm Topanga," she extended her hand and shook Alexandra's hand firmly. "Very nice to meet you both," Alexandra commented, trying her hardest to muster a warm smile to combat Topanga's icy stare.

She was sure she didn't look good. Last night, she had been kept awake, jarred with the sudden encounter with a face from her sordid past. A million thoughts had run through her head as she had unpacked a few outfits for the next couple of days to hold her over until she completely unpacked her new apartment. She had then changed into a baggy pair of silk pajamas given to her by her disgustingly rich fiancé. The bed sheets were chocolate brown and littered with tiny pink decorative carnations. Alexandra turned the bed down, chuckling at the matching brown sheets before settling herself into bed. Questions popped into her head almost instantly, tying knot after knot into her stomach.

_Was I aloof?_

_How in the world did this happen?_

_Did anyone suspect anything?_

She reached over to turn off the bedside lamp when she noticed a picture on the table, embellished by a sterling silver frame. She yanked the photograph and held it close to her face. It was a Christmas card, titled "Merry Christmas from the Matthews, '93"

That would have been six months after their last summer together. Upon further inspection, she could tell that George was obviously Santa and the Matthew family was gathered around him, identical smiles of joy on their faces. Her eyes were pulled to Eric, the boy that she had known so well in a life that seemed so far away. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering that fateful night, and that agonizing decision.

_Please guys… _His voice had echoed in her head for the remainder of the night.

_I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so fucking sorry._

"I'm sorry," Cory said, his head popping up behind his wife. "I know this may sound weird but have we met? You look so familiar to me."

"I don't believe so," A wave of panic washed though her. She willed it away as quickly as it had come, preparing her next words carefully. "I guess I have one of those faces."

Cory didn't believe her. He was extremely good with faces and when he saw one, he almost never forgot it. Something was off about this woman and as Alexandra spoke, the timbre in her voice sounded distantly familiar. He decided right then and there to get to the bottom of it.

"Yeah, I guess you do," Topanga observed, now more relaxed around the other female. She took a seat at the kitchen table and, turning her nose up at Eric's forgotten plate, grabbed her brown leather day planner from her matching purse and opened it, observing the errands that had to be done before the day's end. Cory joined her in Eric's old seat and Amy proceeded to happily make them both a plate.

"Well, I need to go," Alexandra said, already moving toward the kitchen door. "All of those heavy boxes aren't going to move themselves and I only have the U-Haul for the week.

_Perfect opportunity, Matthews._

Cory jumped at the chance of getting to discreetly check out some of her belongings. Cory was a nosy individual, knowing it and embracing it. "Topanga and I have the day off. We were going to hang around here for a while because the offices are being fumigated. We'd love to help you move, especially if you're all by yourself."

"We would?!" Topanga whispered to him, kicking him underneath the table. He nudged her back and gave her a look of warning.

"Oh, no. I wouldn't want to take you away from your day off," Alexandra said, opening the door and turning to Amy. "May I fill up my water bottle really quick while I'm here? I almost forgot."

Amy, who had just finished pouring her son and his wife a glass of orange juice, replied cheerfully. "Oh, sure dear whatever you need. You're practically family."

Topanga returned Cory's dark eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Trust me, something's not right with her. I saw the way Eric looked at her before bolting upstairs and I'm almost certain I've seen her before. You know how I am with faces, so that means she's lying to my parents. I just can't think of were I've seen her before. I want to snoop."

Topanga's jaw dropped. "What? That's so rude, Core."

"I mean," Cory said, quickly covering up his tracks to save his skin, "I want to help out a potential friend. Come on! You were just saying the other day about how we need to help our fellow man more." He gave her a look that conveyed one very simple but direct message: we are doing this. No turning back.


End file.
